Tuesday, March 20, 2012

Paw-Paw: An Update

The phasing out of paw-paw continues to go surprisingly well, knock on wood. Lucia carries it around with her, putting it near her at her art table or with us on the couch when we read, but more often than not she just forgets about it. A couple of times today she said she needed a new paw-paw, but she said it calmly and didn’t push the issue at all, as though she felt she had to say it but wasn’t really invested in the answer.

It took her about fifteen or twenty minutes to fall asleep at naptime; I heard her in her room, singing to herself a song from Music Together: “My lady wind…My lady wind…” She had a meltdown late this afternoon over her desire to simultaneously have and not have honey-graham bunnies, and she refused to even begin her bath until I was done putting Greta down, but otherwise we had a nice day.

Before she went to bed tonight, as we talked about all the things we did today, she said she wouldn’t cry about paw-paw because she was going to get a new toy. “That’s right,” I said. I promised that when she woke up tomorrow, she’d find a new toy.

Fortunately, my 270-piece eBay play-food purchase arrived today, and it is a) spectacular, or b) alarming, depending on whether you ask me (a) or Andrew (b). I can’t possibly give her all of it at once—I was overwhelmed myself—so I’m reserving a bunch of it for potty-training rewards and rainy-day excitement, as well as Easter-basket fun. Even with a huge box set aside, I laid out a wonderful spread of food on the coffee table, some of it even arranged into “meals” on plastic plates. Grinch Andrew wanted me to take half of it away, but of course I didn’t listen. I hope she loves it as much as I do so I can have an excuse to play with it.

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This blog began in 2006, when I quit my job and sold all my furniture to move to Barcelona with Andrew, skipping town blissfully and dramatically; then we skipped town again, to California, and then, finally, back to Brooklyn. Now I'm in a rambling old house in the suburbs, with two babies and a husband and the suspicion that we won’t be skipping town again anytime soon—at least not the kind of skipping town that involves packing boxes and moving trucks.